


Georgian Nights: A Family Affair

by Saitaina



Series: Georgian Nights [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan) RPF, Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saitaina/pseuds/Saitaina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after "Georgian Nights" ends, and the Wayne-Crane family have bigger problems the relationship drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Georgian Nights: A Family Affair**

_Families are like fudge - mostly sweet with a few nuts. ~Author Unknown_

"It's cold,"

Bruce startled, though he tried not to show it, glancing out of the corner of his eye as best he could at the man crouched next to him on the roof of the warehouse they were staking out, before rolling his eyes. "It's in the thirties, idiot," he growled, shifting away as Jonathan edged closer, shivering in the breeze. "And you're not wearing a shirt."

"I thought you liked my new costume," Jonathan whispered with a smirk, grabbing a handful of Bruce's cape and tossing it cover his shoulders, all but hiding under the voluminous fabric, living his mask to better see the activity below.

"Doesn't mean it's the smartest thing to wear when it's _snowing_ ," Bruce countered.

"You two are _really_ loud," a voice said behind them and both men jumped, turning to look at the pair emerging from the shadows. Richard handed Bruce his binoculars back, sitting on the edge of the roof, using his own cape to cover the bright red of his tunic.

"Holy shit don't do that!" Jonathan muttered, glaring, a hand pressed over his head. "Warning!"

"What, should I announce myself with a manic giggle like someone we know?"

"We could hear you across the street," Jeremiah agreed, kicking Richard's thigh for the 'manic giggling' comment as he peered at his father under the cape cum blanket, scratching at the raffia sticking out from his hat. "There's a van in the back of the warehouse, they're loading something, couldn't tell what as _someone_ wouldn't share,"

Richard stuck out his tongue at his sort of brother before yawning, the late night catching up with him. "S'far as I could tell it was bundles of stuff," Richard said with a shrug. Could be drugs, could be used clothing for all I could see."

"I doubt it's clothing," Jonathan muttered, pouting when Bruce took his cape back. "We're moving aren't we? I just got warm!"

Bruce rolled his eyes and jumped off the roof, cape expanding into a glider as he aimed for the street. Richard followed with his grappling gun, swinging across the street, leaving the two "villains" behind.

"Show offs," Jonathan muttered, sliding back down his mask before wrapping an arm around Jeremiah's waist, holding the boy close as he used a grappling hook he stole from the Bat-Cave to repel down the wall, annoyed that the other two started the party without them.

The pair joined the rest of their family in the warehouse, Jonathan kicking out at a drug dealer who had been bolting for the door while Jeremiah maced a dog that had been leaping at him. Jonathan kept one eye on his son as he tied up the drug dealer, grinning as he cartwheeled out of the way of a thug with a gun, keeping low as Richard sent a batarang at the man's hand, knocking the gun away just as Jonathan caught the man in the face with a dose of Fear Toxin. The man started screaming, clawing at his face and Jonathan kicked him aside, eyes scanning the room for Bruce. He spotted him across the room near the van, surrounded by men (and a dog) that were attempting to beat the crap out of him and Jonathan took a few steps to go help his lover out, when Richard's scream rent the air.

"Let go of him, you bastard!" Richard yelled, trying to get to the man who was holding Jeremiah, a gun to the older teen's head.

"Yeah, let go of me!" Jeremiah said, stomping on the man's foot, only to end up holding his head, having been hit with the gun. "Ooo, that's not good," he muttered before vomiting on the man's shoes, earning another hit.

Jonathan pulled an aerosol can of fear toxin from his rope belt, eyeing the scene, wondering how best to approach and save his son's hide, only to find himself rather surprised as Jeremiah suddenly threw his weight forward, breaking the man's grip and rolling forward, springing up with a metal canister in hand, a white mist issuing out, coating the man, instead of the silly string or another annoyance Jeremiah usually favored in his role as "Ragdoll", Jonathan recognized the dusty vapor of his original Fear Toxin in time to dive for Richard, covering the boy's mouth.

Jeremiah stood over the screaming man, one gloved hand delicately held over his mouth and nose before promptly kicking the poor thug, dropping the empty canister near him before joining his father and brother, pushing past them as he pulled two small grenades from his pockets. The pepper version he threw into the mass of dogs that were surrounding Bruce, the other, a vinegar and baking soda concoction he tossed at one of the thugs faces, only to have it explode into red, yellow and black confetti instead of the frothing liquid intended. "Oops, that was the one for Robin's birthday," he said, searching his pockets for the correct one, yelping as one of the thugs threw a brick at him, catching him in the stomach.

"Really, who throws bricks?" Richard muttered, before knocking the thug un-concious with a blow to the back of the head.

"Are you boys quite though playing around?" Jonathan asked, punching another thug and shaking his hand free of pain, ignoring Bruce's snickering.

"Not yet!" Jeremiah said cheerily from the ground where he was trying to catch his breath. He started giggling manically, rolling onto his knees before standing, swaying slightly from the head injury. He grabbed Richard around the waist as his brother tried to examine his eyes, all but hanging from the smaller teen, dizzy. "Did we get them all?" he murmured in-between giggles.

Richard glanced around before looking over at Bruce, raising an eyebrow.

"All that were here," Bruce muttered, checking the back of the van, slicing open one of the packages to reveal thick bricks of cocaine. "I'm going to go call Gordon, Robin, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"I never do anything stupid!" Jeremiah countered.

"Confetti," Richard muttered. "You attacked with confetti,"

"A mistake anyone could make! ...I don't feel so good," Jeremiah muttered and Richard led his brother to a corner where he could be sick.

Jonathan followed his partner out of the warehouse, keeping an eye on their surroundings as Bruce made the necessary calls to both Gordon and Alfred, leaning against the wall, and pushing his mask up, taking taking a deep breath of fresh air.

Bruce slipped his cellphone back into it's pouch before frowning at Jonathan, leaning against the wall. "What were you two doing out here anyway?"

"Teaching Jeremiah how to pick locks," Jonathan said with a shrug before moving in-front of Bruce, tilting his head up in a silent request for a kiss which was granted, Bruce jerking Jonathan's body against his after he pulled his glove off, enjoying the feel of the man's bare, sweaty skin under his hand.

Jonathan groaned softly, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck as he opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, one leg wrapping around Bruce's thigh to pull them even tighter together, smirking at the moan that spilled from Bruce's mouth.

They remained locked together for a long moment, bodies still running high on the adrenaline of the fight, breaking apart only when there was a thump behind them, Bruce shifting slightly to look over Jonathan's shoulders.

"Don't mind us, we'll just be over here, not paying attention," Richard said, refusing to look at his guardians, stepping over the thug that had snuck up on the pair before Jeremiah had knocked him unconscious.

Jeremiah let loose another giggle before Richard dragged him off down the alley, muttering about how their elders had no common sense and did they _have_ to do that around them?

Jonathan shook his head, pulling free of Bruce, sighing. "Children," he muttered, pulling his mask back down before taking off after the two teens, grabbing Richard around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder, yelling something about kidnapping the Boy Wonder for a ransom of chocolates and beer.


	2. Anticipation

**Note:** I am aware the last chapter of Georgian Nights isn't actually done yet, I'm stuck on something, but we all know it turns out anyway, so here's this instead.

Chapter Two: Anticipation

_If pleasures are greatest in anticipation, just remember that this is also true of trouble. - Elbert Hubbard_

"Nerd,"

"Betrayer,"

"Geek,"

"Worm,"

"Dork,"

"Bully,"

"Oh _honestly_ , that is the best you could come up with? Weirdo."

" _Cheerleader,_ "

Richard said it with such disgust that Jeremiah had to pause in unbuttoning his uniform jacket, raising an eyebrow at his brother. "Why does this bother you so much? I don't complain about your little...math club thing,"

"My 'math club thing' does not put me in close proximity to people who use your head as a toilet bowl cleaner!"

"Brian gave you a swirly once, _once_!"

"And you did nothing to stop him!"

"Neither did you, Boy Wonder. I was halfway across the school anyway trying to deal with _your_ girlfriend,"

"A. Barbra is _not_ my girlfriend and B. I'm not allowed to knock jocks unconscious,"

"Sucks to be you then, dweeb,"

Richard glared and clenched his fist before smirking. "I'm not allowed to knock jocks unconscious, Father hasn't said anything about annoying, stuck up, cheerleaders..."

"Now, dearest, most wonderful brother mine..."

"Richard Greyson, if you hit your brother I will be forced to suspend you from the roof," Jonathan called from halfway up the main staircase, staring down at the two teenagers. "Now _what_ is going on?"

"Your _son_ ," Richard said, in a tone that indicated he was denying all relationship to his brother. "Decided to fluff off and become a cheerleader for Gotham Academy," Richard said, giving his brother another glare for good measure. "Thus ensuring my life is even more hellish then it already is at school,"

"Excuse me for finding a hobby," Jeremiah muttered before grinning up at his dad. "I made the squad!"

"Congratulations, Jeremiah," Bruce said as he came in the door behind the pair, catching the tail end of the conversation. "I told you that your hard work would be rewarded."

"Wait, you knew about this?" Richard said, turning on his father. "You _knew_ and didn't tell me?"

"I guessed that Jeremiah would tell you when he felt comfortable with it," Bruce said with a shrug, ruffling both boy's hair and gently kissing Jonathan as he passed.

Richard blinked at Bruce's words, taking in the tone of voice before looking at his brother, _really_ looking. Jeremiah's lip was bleeding from where he had worried at it with his teeth, the lines around his mouth and forehead that he had been sporting for the past week gone, and his tone suddenly lighter.

Realization struck Richard and he wanted to kick himself. Jeremiah had been worried about this, and not just making the team, but how his family, Richard in particular would react. He reached out, gently grabbing his brother's sleeve. "Hey, I am proud of you," he said softly, feeling worse for his earlier treatment as Jeremiah's eyes lit up.

"Thank you," Jeremiah breathed, hugging his younger brother tightly. "I promise, it'll all be okay," he said as he clung to his brother.

"Yeah yeah, big bad cheerleader saves boy from toilet bowl," Richard muttered with a smile, hugging his brother back. He then pulled away, glaring. "You had better not miss training because of this, I will _not_ be left alone with those two,"

Jeremiah giggled, swinging an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Relax, I won't leave you alone with Dad and Uncle Bruce...so long as you don't ditch me to go off and save the world,"

"I can't help that!"

"Sure, sure, gotta go and be a teen hero." Jeremiah said, rolling his eyes as he headed upstairs to change out of his school uniform. "Leave our poor, defenseless brother at home..."

"Defenseless my ass! You tried to break my leg the last time we ran across you and Jonathan!" Richard said, chasing after Jeremiah who took off running up the stairs.

–

"I'll get it!" Jonathan called, cutting off Alfred as he headed for the door. He opened it, revealing a tall, slender man whose dark red hair seemed to almost glow in the fading winter sunlight. "Edward!" Jonathan wrapped his arms around the other man, laughing as he buried his face in his friend's neck, breathing in the man's scent.

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he watched his lover hug another man, finishing his trip down the last few steps. "Jonathan?"

Jonathan pulled back from the man, grinning at Bruce. "Bruce, meet Edward Nashton, my collage roommate at Harvard, from when I was in medical school. Edward, meet Bruce Wayne, my boyfriend."

"My pleasure," Edward said with a low bow, studying the man across from him.

"Likewise, Bruce said, his other eyebrow raising at the bow. "A fellow doctor?"

"Unfortunately not, Edward was always more interested in technology and invention then medicine," Jonathan said. "Such a brilliant mind, wasted."

Edward rolled his eyes at the long standing argument over their branches of science, before turning his attention fully to Jonathan. "I was hoping to take you out to an early dinner, I'm only in Gotham for a few days before I return to Boston."

"Yeah, let me grab a coat," he said, turning to find Alfred already there with his leather jacket ready. He shook his head at the man's powers, sliding his arms into the jacket and grabbing his keys, heading out with the man.

"Your frowning," Alfred said, as he joined Bruce by the door, watching the two men climb into a beat up car.

"Edward Nashton...something strikes me as off about the man," Bruce said softly.

"Hmm. He _is_ a friend of Doctor Crane," Alfred pointed out before offering Bruce a slip of paper. "A Doctor Quinzel of Arkham wishes to speak with you regarding the fundraiser."

-

"Right, so we've had dinner, we've had desert, and we've walked around the park twice. Cut the crap, Edward, why are you in Gotham?" Jonathan asked as he leaned against a tree, watching his friend.

Edward grinned, a flash of perfect white teeth. "What, I can't be here to visit an old friend?"

"I can read a newspaper, _Nygma_. Not to mention, I helped you create that puzzle. Why are you in my city?"

"Well, the thing is, Spooky, you disappeared on me, and the next thing I know, you're face is splashed across every paper in the country as they haul your ass into jail..."

"Arkham," Jonathan corrected.

"Whatever. For what was it...oh yeah, creating a bio-terror weapon." Edward crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the doctor. "I wanted to check up on you."

"It's been six years since I was arrested." Jonathan pointed out.

"I was slightly busy with things," Edward said, waving his hand dismissively. "It wasn't until I saw this that I got truly concerned." He shoved a paper at Jonathan, waiting.

Jonathan frowned, accepting the newspaper clipping, staring at an image of Jeremiah and Richard that had been taken at one of Wayne Enterprises' many functions, the boys looking incredibly cheery for being stuffed into tuxedo's and paraded around. "It's my son and Richard, what about it?"

Edward rolled his eyes and offered Jonathan his iphone, bringing up the same image, this time vandalized with giant green smiles and black x's over their eyes. "You _really_ haven't been keeping up with the underworld beyond what is right in front of you, have you?" he asked. "Joker has a hit out for those two. Well, more for Richard, he's willing to accept someone bringing him 'Ragdoll' alive, if harmed."

Jonathan stared at the picture, rage growing inside him. "Thank you, for bringing this to my attention," he said, the worlds clipped, controlled. He handed the phone back towards Edward and pushed past the man, more eager to get home then before.

"I'll be around, Spooky, if you need me." Edward called after him.

Jonathan stilled, turning to look at Edward. "I hate that name."

Edward smirked at the silent thank you, shoving his hands into his pant pockets and leaning back on his heels. "Yeah, but it's fitting." He tipped an imaginary hat to his friend, before vanishing into the darkness.

-

_Edward Nashton, aka Edward Nygma, small time thief and con artist, leaves puzzles and riddles behind at scenes of his crimes as a signature. Current whereabouts unknown._

Bruce leaned back in his chair, studying the mugshot of Jonathan's friend on the screen in front of him, wondering if his boyfriend knew about the man's history with the Boston PD. So far, everything had checked out on the man, though there were startling gaps in the man's history that couldn't be accounted for, as if the records from the age of twenty and beyond had simply vanished.

He looked up as Jonathan stepped into the cave and took a seat next to him. The man pulled a dark green iphone from his jacket and slid it at Bruce, showing him the picture of their sons. "Joker has a contract out for the boys." he said.

"Joker is still in Arkham, the boys are safe enough for now." Bruce countered, picking up the phone, wondering whose it was, considering he knew that Jonathan's was black with little pumpkin stickers all over it thanks to Jeremiah and Richard.

"For now. There is someone out there who will want to impress Joker well enough, or someone who hates the man."

Bruce nodded, taking a note of the odd question mark sticker on the phone, before sliding it back at Jonathan. "I will talk wit their school tomorrow."

Jonathan nodded and leaned in for a kiss before standing and heading to go change for the night, laughing as Bruce called after him to wear a warmer costume rather then his leather pants ensemble.


	3. Old Friends and New Beginings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward's opening move, Jonathan breaks down and an Arkham arrives.

_“Your worst enemy could be your best friend and your best friend your worst enemy”  
― Bob Marley_

“Daddy!”

Edward turned in time to catch a young girl, swinging her up into his arms, long red pigtails flying as the girl giggled.

Jonathan blinked, watching the pair as he leaned against the roof door of Gotham General, smoke curling from his lips. “You’re a father?”

Edward gave a tug to one of the girl’s braids before looking up at Jonathan. “Apparently. Trust me, I was rather more surprised than you when child services told me. My little Enigma…”

“Ef-fie,” the girl corrected her father, before resting her head against Edward’s chest, blinking huge brown eyes at Jonathan and the doctor was struck by how much the pair did in fact resemble each other. 

“And yet you’re still pulling the shit you do,” Jonathan said, snorting as he flicked the cigarette away, watching as the wind rolled it off of the building. 

“Wouldn’t you, if you still had the opportunity?” Edward countered, arching an eyebrow at Jonathan. “If you didn’t drown your true nature behind toxic level of medication and false illusions, you know that you would be out there with the rest of us, watching the masses scream and writhe beneath you.” He set Effie down on the roof, tapping her nose in a silent message.

The girl bounced off to go play in a corner while her father turned his attention back to Jonathan, moving closer to the other man, pressing him back against the roof’s door, his hands easily resting on either side of Jonathan’s head. “This isn’t you, Spooky. Playing the good doctor and proper boyfriend, kept so far away from the precious little lunatics you long to play with…”

Edward’s lips were brushing Jonathan’s as the man spoke, and Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut, torn between past and present, the feel, smell, press, sound of Edward evoking memories he had thought he long buried.

“I’m not that man,” he gasped out, biting his lip as Edward pressed in closer, lips slowly teasing over Jonathan’s ear. 

“You would be...if you weren’t so damn afraid,”

Jonathan’s eyes shot open, hands resting against Edward’s chest, fisting the lapels of his suit jacket. Where two seconds ago he had been intending to pull the man closer, now he used his grip to flip them, shoving Edward hard against the door he had just been leaning against, taking pleasure in the rush of shock and fear that filled the redhead’s eyes.

“Lesson one, _Eddie_ , never push a mental patient, you never know when they’ll lash out.” Jonathan drove his knee into Edward’s groin, stepping back at the other man crumpled to the roof in pain. “Lesson two, I fear nothing.” He stalked off, lab coat swirling around him as he shoved Edward aside and heading into the hospital, eager to bury himself into the work of saving people in the emergency room, trying to forget about his heart’s longing to head to the psychiatric ward and talk with the patients there.

“Daddy?” Effie asked, hugging her stuffed Hello Kitty plushie, her head tilted as she watched her father writhe on the ground.

-

A year ago, Bruce and Jonathan had a long discussion about the future of their relationship. Everything from the boys, to marriage, to Jonathan running back to Georgia in a fit of pique. And the pair had decided, that while the most logical step for ‘normal’ couples would have been a ceremony of sorts, a public declaration of their intent to be together forever, the idea became...complicated when dealing with the Wayne family.

Plus, it wasn’t _really_ that big of a deal to either of them.

So, forgoing the legal disaster that would be marrying the Wayne heir, Jonathan instead presented Bruce with adoption papers for Jeremiah, securing the boy’s future (and ensuring should anything happen to him, Jeremiah still had a home and family), Bruce doing the same for Richard.

Legally and officially, in every sense, they were truly a family, united, not by blood, but by love and the legal morass that was one too many court documents.

And it was with this not!marriage that Jonathan found himself once again playing smiling (if utterly fake) host to yet another Wayne charity function, feeling much like a trophy husband as he smiled and greeted another guest, easily ignoring the veiled insults that came from certain members of the social elite in Gotham (made much more bearable by picturing Scarecrow turning said elitists into so much bloody flesh confetti), while taking shelter with those of both the middle and upper classes who had brains between their ears and had easily accepted Jonathan into their ranks.

He was never sure if he was...frowned at for his birth status, his social ranking...or for the fact he ran around in the night wearing burlap, but he had yet been bored enough to actually ask.

“Jonathan, I would like to introduce you to Jeremiah Arkham, he has come in to take over Arkham Asylum,” Bruce said, holding out a hand to the thin, bespectacled man who had come with him to greet his boyfriend.

Jonathan stiffened at the name, refusing to turn around, his mind shutting down for a moment before attempting to reboot. He swallowed thickly and plastered a smile on his lips, turning to face the man.

And damn if Jeremiah hadn’t changed a single bit since Jonathan had last seen him. 

“We’ve met,” Jonathan said, offering a hand to Jeremiah.

The taller man blinked slowly, staring at the hand offered to him as if he was unsure what it was or what to do with it, before grasping it, long fingers curling around Jonathan’s. “Quite. It has been a while, Doctor Crane.” Jeremiah said, his voice cold, thin, empty of anything really.

Jonathan inclined his head before releasing Jeremiah’s hand and offering a gesturing hand towards the two boys now approaching. “My sons, Richard Grayson and Jeremiah Crane,” he offered.

Jeremiah Arkham’s head snapped between the younger and Jonathan, before he caught it, nodding to the two boys, turning on his heel and heading for the bar.

“Well that guy’s creepy,” Richard said, staring after the last heir of Arkham, shivering.

-

“You named him after me.”

Jonathan turned, watching Jeremiah Arkham approach, leaning against the low fence that surrounded the gazebo he had taken refuge in. “Is it not common for one to name their children after people they admire...people close to them?”

“We are not close,” Jeremiah pointed out, taking a long sip from his glass of whiskey, watching Jonathan.

“We were, once,” Jonathan said, turning away from the man, looking out at the long, rolling hills of the Wayne Estate.

“Mm, before you left my bed to go pursue madness in Gotham City,” Jeremiah countered. He watched Jonathan, before moving slowly, silently up behind him, his hand resting against the other man’s back. 

Jonathan, in-spite himself, leaned against the familiar touch, his eyes closing. Once upon a time, he had thought this was everything he wanted...everything he needed. A home to finally belong, someone to share his life with.

But that was years and a lifetime ago, and Jeremiah wasn’t the forever he had thought. He turned, nose brushing over the other man’s neck, inhaling deeply the long forgotten scent of Jeremiah and whiskey, tilting his head up to meet the lips that pressed easily against his own for a moment before he stepped back, putting distance between them. 

“I wasn’t the one who walked away first, Jere,” Jonathan said, taking the glass from Jeremiah and draining it, handing it back empty but a few stray ice cubes. “Welcome to Gotham.”

With that, Jeremiah was forced to watch Jonathan walk away from him for the second time, the younger man’s hand finding Bruce’s when the pair met up, Jonathan shaking his head softly to whatever it was Bruce leaned to whisper in his ear. Jeremiah raised his glass to take a long, steading drink...only to remember too late it was empty, the ice hitting his nose.

-

Edward leaned back in his chair as he stared up at the large mass of screens before him. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Jonathan he would be around, but he never made it clear just _how_.

“Daddy?” Effie asked, climbing into Edward’s lap, looking up at the various figures on the screens, leaning back against her father’s chest. “What’cha watching?”

“Uncle Jonathan being an idiot,” Edward said, brushing his fingers through his daughter’s long red curls as he spied on the gala, drinking in everything on the screen, mind turning, plotting.

“Oh,” Effie said, hugging her doll, humming softly to herself, her own brown eyes taking in everything that was going on, studying it eagerly to best make her father happy. “Daddy, he’s taking your box,” she said, pointing to a smaller image in an almost forgotten screen.

A wicked grin spilled over Edward’s lips and he hugged his daughter close. “Shall we watch the show?”

She nodded, watching as the present exploded in the man’s hand, green and purple confetti spilling out even as the man screamed in pain. She giggled, kicking her feet at the spray of blood.

-

“Thank you for the invitation,” Doctor Quinzel said with a smile as she reached out, shaking both Bruce and Jonathan’s hands.

“It was our pleasure, Harleen,” Bruce said, leaning in to kiss the young psychiatrist’s cheek.

Harley blushed, pressing a hand against her cheek. “Aww, ya charmer,” she said, her accent peeking through her words before she cleared her throat. “I’ll call your secretary Monday to go over the figures. Evening Johnny!” She reached out, ruffling Jeremiah’s hair before bouncing off to her waiting motorcycle, long blond pigtails trailing after her.

Jonathan shook his head, waving after her before stiffening as Jeremiah Arkham appeared.

“Mr. Wayne, Doctor Crane,” he greeted, giving them a slight head nod. “Thank you for your...generosity to the Asylum.”

“It was our pleasure,” Bruce said, his voice noticeably cooler towards the other man. Jeremiah and Bruce stared at each other for a long moment, and Jonathan’s hand actually covered his face, wishing everyone around him would just grow up.

“Boys, not now,” he hissed. “You can take them out and measure when we’re not surrounded by most of Gotham.”

“Quite,” Jeremiah said, tearing his eyes away from his staring contest with Bruce, walking down the stairs to his waiting car, ignoring the driver who greeted him.

“Good-bye, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Crane!” A young boy said, running out the front door, followed more lazily by two adults, the female of the pair shaking her head. 

“Forgive him, he’s young,” she said, offering her hand to the couple. “It’s been a lovely night, _Doctor_ Crane.”

“The pleasure was ours, Janet,” Jonathan said, playfully kissing her hand. “Are we still on for tea tomorrow?”

“Of course. I will lock Timothy in the attic so he won’t bother us,” she joked, wrapping her arm around Jack’s and waving as they went to catch their hyper son.

“So, how much candy did you two feed him?” Bruce asked as he watched the Drake family leave.

“Several handfuls?” Richard answered with a grin.

-

Jim chewed on the edge of his pipe, staring down at the bloody disaster that, according to the medics, a man. Honestly, he thought ‘smear’ was a better description, but he didn’t voice that idea.

“Joker?”

“No,” Jim said, trying _not_ to punch the voice that had suddenly sounded behind him. Honestly, one of these days, that impulse was going to get the better of him, and sadly, he had a feeling he would come out the worse if he gave into instinct and slugged the Batman.

“Oh?” Jim turned this time, arching an eyebrow at the note of actual curiosity in Batman’s voice, before he shrugged, fingers holding out a blood stained green card. 

“Calls himself ‘Riddler’, left that specifically for you.”

Batman accepted the card carefully, being sure not to ruin any evidence on it as he held it between gloved fingers. “They have names now.”

“Hmm,” Jim said, chewing more on the stem of his pipe. “This is the third explosion of the night. The boys in explosives dismantled two more...gifts before they went off.”

“And they each had a card,” Batman guessed.

Jim nodded, turning to say something and rolling his eyes at the empty space that Batman had been in. “I need that card back!” he yelled into the dark night.

-

Jonathan sat up straighter as he listened to the communicator in his ear grateful Bruce was on the other side of the city and couldn’t see his expression at the moment. He was going to have a _long_ talk to Edward about what was acceptable in _his_ city, but until then...he would do his level best to distract Bruce from Edward’s trail.

Not for his friend’s sake, but for that cute little girl’s, who needed her father. Edward had nothing to do with his choices, really.

And if he could eventually convince himself of that it would be great.

Screaming drew him out of his thoughts and Jonathan looked up over the file he was marking, watching the as the patient across the hall was dragged by Security and two orderlies towards the locked ward. Fingers tightened on the file, the pen held between his fingers snapping in half as he recognized one of his patients from Arkham.

_Longing_ shot through him, a fierce desire to run over there and sedate the man, to _help_. But his hands were bound, one of several conditions of his medical license being re-instated. He _couldn’t_ help. Couldn’t be within ten feet of any mentally ill patient. It didn’t matter that he knew more than any of these idiots, it didn’t matter that Psychology was his specialty, his _gift_. If he even so much as _looked_ at one of the psych patients for longer than ten minutes, his head would be on a platter.

And so Jonathan was left trembling, staring at the wall next to the commotion, trying not to lash out and scream at them for doing everything _wrong_ god damnit!

“Jonathan?”

Jonathan jumped, spinning in his chair, looking up at his co-worker and the head of the emergency department. “Hey Carol,” he said, raising a shaking hand, holding out a prescription slip. “I need you to sign off on this for trauma two.”

Yet another restriction that bound him, but somehow needing another doctor to sign off on his prescriptions chafed far less than taking away part of his very being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: 
> 
> 1.Yes, this is Nolan-verse, but given the limits of that universe, more and more of the comics are slipping in. for reference, both original and New 52 are used.
> 
> 2\. I have screwed with the ages of everyone younger than Dick...mostly because I was an idiot when I first planned this out and then just gave up on figuring it out. Tim/Effie are both six.
> 
> 3\. Delay: I was accused of plagiarism shortly after chapter two was posted and lost all interest in finishing this story. Obviously that has faded a bit, but I’m still highly annoyed over it.


	4. Bitter Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward pokes, Bruce worries and Jonathan's very, very confused.

_“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” -Leslie Poles Hartley_

Jonathan could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his bare back and he smirked, turning to look at the warm tongue tracing a line of salt and alcohol up to the droplet, groaning softly as Edward slid up his body, turning to wrap his arms around the redhead’s neck, their bodies moving in a time-worn rhythm.

Jonathan’s eyes closed, giving himself to the feel of Edward, the music, the alcohol and the many illicit drugs he was pretty sure were going to have a _very_ bad effect on his medication.

But he needed this.

He needed a moment where he wasn’t Doctor Crane, wasn’t Scarecrow, wasn’t somebody's lover or father or anything more than _this_. He would deal with the fallout in the morning...if he saw the morning.

\--

“Edward….” 

The redhead grinned, running his tongue up over Jonathan’s neck to his lips, kissing him. He loved when Jonathan was drunk and high enough to forget himself, free of everything and simply...himself. He often indulged the man, eagerly giving Jonathan whatever he desired that would loosen his restraint, would loosen his control. 

He loved hearing Jonathan call out his name, Southern accent caressing every letter as he pressed the smaller man against a dirty alley wall tasting every inch of his lover, marking every piece that would never truly be his...because Jonathan had always belonged to another. To Jeremiah...to Bruce...to Arkham…he had never had a chance, a time. He could only steal what moments, what pieces he could, before returning Jonathan to his rightful owners.

...luckily, Edward had always been a _very_ good thief.

\--

“Do you think I inspire this?”

Jonathan blinked behind his mask, looking up at his boyfriend who was stoically staring down at the bloodstains left behind from Edward’s...prank. He rolled his eyes, standing from his crouched position, long coat blowing in the breeze. “Do you still think that? Of course not, idiot.”

“This only started after I...appeared.”

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose, realized it didn’t help through the mask and reached out, promptly slapping Bruce upside the back of his cowl, wincing at the pain from the hardened armor. “No, this happened when Batman took down the mobs and gangs, leaving a hole to be filled.”

“I was trying to inspi-”

“Yes, yes, inspire good, save me, I’ve heard the speech, Bats,” Jonathan said, a touch of Scarecrow slipping into his voice. “Too damn bad. You can’t inspire good. It either exists or it doesn’t, and it can’t exist without evil.” 

Jonathan knelt again, running his gloved hand against the edge of the building, eyes focusing down on the blood and confetti, the left behind remnants of someone else’s madness and pain. “Nothing can exist without evil,” he breathed. “Light needs darkness to exist, _you_ need the darkness to exist.” 

He angled his head, looking up at Bruce from the corner of his eye slightly, still keeping the blood in focus. “You didn’t inspire this, but the darkness rose up to meet you anyway. Edward was mad _long_ before you were here, as was Joker...as was I. You did not create us any more than we created you.”

Bruce grunted in reply, shaking his head. There was silence for a long moment before he looked down at Jonathan, gently gripping the man’s shoulder. “I _will_ find him, Jonathan, and one way or another, he _will_ pay for this.”

Jonathan nodded, his head bowed. “Just...try not to hurt him too much?”

“I will...try.”

Jonathan shook his head, knowing it was the best he was going to get regarding Edward, before standing. “I need…” 

Bruce nodded and allowed Jonathan to leave, to take time for himself...even if a dot did flash behind his lenses, a silent trace of Jonathan’s movements.

It was the first time they had ever been separated on the issue of how to handle someone. Jonathan had never before interfered with what Bruce did as Batman, and had, more often than not, assisted. While they generally didn’t go out every night and patrol, Jonathan usually helped from the background or sidelines, occasionally stepping in when Dick and Bruce needed back-up, or stopping in during his own nightly pursuits….

...but this time, something was different. Something had changed, and Bruce wasn’t sure how to fix it. He couldn’t let Edward go, let the man get away with what he did, and he _knew_ that Jonathan understood that, but this...man, was clearly standing between them. A sparkling, smirking puzzle that Bruce had yet to solve, and he was truly afraid, that when he did...Jonathan would be gone.

\---

“Doctor Scarecrow, I presume?” Edward asked, leaning against the open door, arms lazily crossed over his chest, brown eyes peering at the masked man.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, pushing past Edward, Jeremiah a silent shadow behind. “Where is your daughter?”

“In her room, why?”

Jonathan motioned to Jeremiah who wandered off through the once upon a time warehouse turned living space, leaving his father to talk with the green-clad man. 

Jonathan pulled off his mask, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “You need to leave.”

“Excuse me? This is my home, our home,” Edward said, clearly confused and annoyed.

“I meant Gotham, you imbecile,”

“And _why_ , exactly, would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, _he_ will destroy you. Everything you have here, all your little plans, he will tear them apart. You will rot away in Arkham and your daughter will grow up without you. Leave, Edward. Take Effie and go.”

“No.” Edward turned away from Jonathan, heading into the kitchen, filling a kettle with water. “I knew about your boyfriend long before I came here and I still did it. Your little hissy fit won’t make me leave any more than his swooping shadow will.”

“Are you _insane_?!” Jonathan asked, nails digging into the wood of the table he was clutching, staring at his friend. “What on _Earth_ is worth ruining your life for?!”

Edward paused for a long moment, staring at the green kettle in his hand, flicking a bit of rust off with his thumbnail. “What do you think would be worth it, Jonathan? Clearly not Effie, not my safety, not my _life_ because if I had any value for that I would be on the other side of the world from this forsaken hell. So tell me, Doctor Crane, just _what_ would be worth it?”

“I honestly have no idea!”

“You, my dear, sweet Spooky. _You_ are what is worth it, _You_ are why I’m here.”

“Edward…”

“It’s time for you to come home, Jonathan. Stop playing house, stop playing nice. Stop. Fucking. Playing.”

“I _am_ home, Edward..” Jonathan said, confused.

There was a loud noise as Edward slammed the kettle down onto the cast iron stove burner, turning to Jonathan, brown eyes almost glowing. Another noise and laying in front of Jonathan was a vial filled with a sickly green liquid, swirled with brown flecks. 

His original toxin.

Nineteen years ago he had handed the vial to Edward as a parting gift to his partner, assistant, lover...friend...before he headed for Gotham. It had been spur of the moment, Jeremiah had left Boston, he had just received his placement in Arkham, his Grandmother’s will had been found (well, a copy thereof. He had thought he buried it with the woman)...everything seemed to be ending for him...and beginning. So he had turned over his first creation to the only person he could trust and ran as fast as he could. 

And now it was staring him in the face again. 

“What is this, Edward?”

“You know what it is, Jonathan. Your baby, your raison d'etre...the one toxin without a cure, without a hope, without anything but _fear_. You, in it’s purest, distilled form. _This_ is why I am here, Jonathan and why I will remain here. _This_ is your home. Not Gotham, not him, not that little brat in the next room. This.”

Jonathan reached a trembling gloved hand towards the vial before shaking his head. “Go, Edward. The man you came here for is no longer alive.”

“Then why can’t you take your eyes off of that vial?”


End file.
